Somewhere in the Distance
by privateradios
Summary: Mac goes to remember. Hints of MacStella. Posted this on LJ as well.


**_Somewhere in the Distance_**  
**Title:** Something in the Distance  
**Author:** Jen – privateradios  
**Rating:** FRT – Always my rating. Never know where I'll go with these.  
**Pairing:** None really. Just small hints of Mac/Stella.  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine and never will be.  
**Summary:** Mac goes to remember.  
**A/N:** This came to me during class and I had to type it out and see what it created.

"Mr. Taylor? Is that what you want me to call you today? Or is Mac all right?" She asks, her eyes never leaving your frame, her words dripping with curiosity and questions that you were not intended to answer.

And so you shift uncomfortably in your seat. "M-mac."

She nods and her lips curve into what seems to be a small smile. Her appearance is the same as usual; long-brown hair pulled on top of her head into a tight bun, glasses resting perfectly on her glasses chain and her legs crossed with a clipboard on her semi bare legs. She's wearing a skirt again and you notice that this time, the skirt lies a little past her knees and you shift uncomfortably again, wondering if maybe she noticed that you were staring.

"So, how are things going with you Mac? You enjoy your week so far?"

You nervously tap your fingers on the leather chair, the cat shaped clock on her desk ticking echoing loudly in the room. You don't want to be here. You don't want to answer these questions and you sure as hell don't want to remember anything that happened a couple years ago.

No. Not at all.

"I assume so. Just like any other week."

"Explain."

You stare at her hard and she doesn't show any emotion in return. You wonder why you even bothered listening to Stella and actually going to see a psychologist to help you with your issues with Claire. You had argued with Stella that in fact everything was all right and that the nightmares you once had were gone but Stella was Stella, and she disagreed. And that's when you found yourself here now; visiting this woman to tell her about your own problems and having her fix your own problems.

If that wasn't pathetic then you weren't sure what was. You believed that you could solve them on your own.

"I'm a Crime Scene Investigator. I investigate crime scenes like any other day. It's the same as usual." You reply to her question, your eyes quickly darting around the room. You have to stop staring.

She's silent and you can hear the small scratching of the pen on the clipboard and you wish she would stop. Wish she would stop taking notes and just talk to you like a normal person. Or if not that, then at least like Stella because Stella seems to be the only one who can actually get through to you.

And you wonder why Stella isn't your psychiatrist because she would sure as hell get more answers out of you than this woman.

"Do you enjoy your job?"

"Yes."

"You like solving crimes?"

"Yes."

"You like helping people?"

"Yes."

"Do you ever wonder if you could have helped Claire?"

Maybe it was the mention of her name on a stranger's lips that made your blood boil, or maybe it was the fact that you were returning back to that one night that you prayed, and hoped and pleaded not to remember but here you were, on a Thursday night in two-thousand and six talking about Claire Taylor. 

Your grip on the leather seat tightens as your breathing turns into quick breaths. You know that this woman, (you don't even know her name), is making, analyzing you and all you want is for her to leave you alone.

You didn't want to be here, didn't want to face her and you did not want at all to reminiscence about Claire. Did not want to remember the color of her golden blond hair gently cascading down her back or her warm and beautiful blue eyes that pulled you deep into her soul. Her lips - soft and kissable, her touch – warm and welcoming, and her spirit – open and free, and that was the woman that you never wanted to forget.

She was your other half and it wasn't until now that you realized that ever since Claire left this world, Stella had held her place. Stella had been there for you, helped you through those months of moving Claire's things out of the apartment and she helped healed your aching heart.

Your eyes close as you faintly hear the psychiatrist's voice in the background. You instead find yourself listening to Stella's voice inside of your head and you imagine her to be right here besides you and a small smile tugs at your lips as you finally hear her. _All right. Bad idea Mac. Maybe going to see this woman wasn't such a great idea. Hey, listen, why don't you get out of there and meet me up somewhere. I can meet you at Sullivan's if you want, no one else there, and we can talk over the coffee or maybe beer since that might be more powerful. Anyway, if I was you, I'd get my ass out of there and out now._

"Mac?" It's the psychiatrist's voice again and you open your eyes and she's looking at you intensely, trying to figure out for the life of her what you were thinking but there's no way you're going to let her know that.

"Listen," you begin, rising from your seat and her brows furrow in confusion, a little taken back at your sudden movement, "I have to go find someone right now. Maybe we can finish this up another time, all right?"

And even though you ask her the question, you don't bother to wait for her response. You throw your jacket over your shoulders and pull your cell phone out of your pocket as you walk away and speed dial Stella's   
number.

For she, Stella Bonasera, is your other half. 

FIN.


End file.
